an honest attempt, really.
I'm trying to get back into the habit of teh internets. I find myself spending more and more time day dreaming, reading books, listening to music, and watching teevee. While these things are all well and good, I'm not really socializing any more, and human contact, even via computer, is probably... you know, essential to my emotional development. Or something.
Right. So. Internet. Other people. I'm all over that.
***
Yesterday was my first day back at PPHP. (That would be my local affiliate of Planned Parenthood, for you newcomers. I intern there.) It went pretty well. I was there for most of the day and got some work done. There are some REALLY awesome things coming up, including FPA's annual conference in March. If you live in Westchester, Suffolk, or Rockland counties and you want a free trip to Albany to learn more about family planning legislation and to get a chance to actually lobby your legislators, let me know. It's Monday, March 26th, and it's going to be great, if only because the people planning it, at least from PPHP's end, are awesome (including yours truly).
But the day went pretty well. My boss' boss even bought pizza for us!
***
I wrote bits today.
Not that it's any of your business, but I haven't told him yet.
Laura stares at the letters on the screen for a long moment before hitting 'send.' She glances up from her laptop, eyes falling on Ryan, who looks about as interested in his paperwork as she is in hers. He catches her staring and his eyes shift from hers to the pile of folders on her desk. The smirk is back, along with a sarcastic thumbs up as he pats the even larger pile on his own desk. She rolls her eyes, just as her computer dings.
New message. That was quick.
You mean your husband?
Laura frowns, fumes, really, and is poised to snap a quick reply when the noise from earlier repeats and she sees she has another new message.
I'm sorry. Your ex-husband.
She types a reply hastily, but deletes it as soon as she gets the joke. Well, not joke, per se, but she gets what Danny is aiming for, can practically hear the smug superiority that he can pull off charmingly and flawlessly, the way he'd say it so as to seem clever and funny and sarcastic but not lose any friends over it.
She types this instead:
Dear Mrs. Pratchett,
Leave it to you to split hairs over such a ridiculous technicality.
She feels strangely relaxed as she sends the message. It's funny--prior to her intercepted announcement earlier in the week, she had exchanged only a few sentences with Stevens, most of which occured while Alan was in the hospital. Now, though... well, Danny is providing her with the sort of distraction that's comfortable and welcome and as much as she's come to care about Alan, she's thankful Danny inadvertantly recieved her poorly timed message. She doubts that Alan is looking at this pregancy with the same terror that she is, and Danny, at least, is doing a fabulous job empathizing.
***
Not much else to say. The People I'd Do meme is going around again. Perhaps I will update my list. Nothing like looking at pictures of pretty people to distract myself from the work I should be doing!
Right. So. Internet. Other people. I'm all over that.
***
Yesterday was my first day back at PPHP. (That would be my local affiliate of Planned Parenthood, for you newcomers. I intern there.) It went pretty well. I was there for most of the day and got some work done. There are some REALLY awesome things coming up, including FPA's annual conference in March. If you live in Westchester, Suffolk, or Rockland counties and you want a free trip to Albany to learn more about family planning legislation and to get a chance to actually lobby your legislators, let me know. It's Monday, March 26th, and it's going to be great, if only because the people planning it, at least from PPHP's end, are awesome (including yours truly).
But the day went pretty well. My boss' boss even bought pizza for us!
***
I wrote bits today.
Not that it's any of your business, but I haven't told him yet.
Laura stares at the letters on the screen for a long moment before hitting 'send.' She glances up from her laptop, eyes falling on Ryan, who looks about as interested in his paperwork as she is in hers. He catches her staring and his eyes shift from hers to the pile of folders on her desk. The smirk is back, along with a sarcastic thumbs up as he pats the even larger pile on his own desk. She rolls her eyes, just as her computer dings.
New message. That was quick.
You mean your husband?
Laura frowns, fumes, really, and is poised to snap a quick reply when the noise from earlier repeats and she sees she has another new message.
I'm sorry. Your ex-husband.
She types a reply hastily, but deletes it as soon as she gets the joke. Well, not joke, per se, but she gets what Danny is aiming for, can practically hear the smug superiority that he can pull off charmingly and flawlessly, the way he'd say it so as to seem clever and funny and sarcastic but not lose any friends over it.
She types this instead:
Dear Mrs. Pratchett,
Leave it to you to split hairs over such a ridiculous technicality.
She feels strangely relaxed as she sends the message. It's funny--prior to her intercepted announcement earlier in the week, she had exchanged only a few sentences with Stevens, most of which occured while Alan was in the hospital. Now, though... well, Danny is providing her with the sort of distraction that's comfortable and welcome and as much as she's come to care about Alan, she's thankful Danny inadvertantly recieved her poorly timed message. She doubts that Alan is looking at this pregancy with the same terror that she is, and Danny, at least, is doing a fabulous job empathizing.
***
Not much else to say. The People I'd Do meme is going around again. Perhaps I will update my list. Nothing like looking at pictures of pretty people to distract myself from the work I should be doing!